Hole In One
by huntergirl727
Summary: One brother dead, leaving a gaping black hole in the other.  emo emo emo...
1. Chapter 1

**I know it's completely against the creed of Supernatural fans everywhere to associate the Winchesters with anything other than 'Mullet rock', but I recently purchased and fell in love with **_Evanescence: Fallen_**. So the 9th track, **_Hello_**, gave me this idea of the surviving brother going crazy. Hopefully, if you don't know this fabulous tune already, you can find it on projectplaylist(dot)com and listen to it's wonderful melancholy sound as you are reading. Hope you enjoy it. There's plenty of angst/emo and all that good stuff.**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned Sam and Dean, but I don't. Kripke, Warner Bros, etc are the rightful owners of all involved here. No profit is being made from this fic, it just helps me pass the time until Season 3 starts.**

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He rolled over and felt the rumpled blankets tugging at him, screaming their protests against the movement. He didn't care. At all. About anything.

He had been holed up in a crappy little backwoods cabin in northern Washington State for a long time. He didn't know how long -- all the rainy days ran into each other -- and he honestly didn't care. He hadn't gotten out of bed nearly the whole time he'd been there. He slept most of the time. Sure, he knew that he needed rest to heal his injuries, but that wasn't why he slept. He slept to shut out the pain. Dean was gone, and Sam was waiting to die.

All he could think about was Dean, and how _stupid_ it was that he was gone.

A stupid mistake...

_It wasn't stupid. I did it right. The other guy fucked up._

No, it was stupid. We shouldn't have been racing.

_Dude, that jackass needed to be taught a lesson. Thinking his freakin' Mustang was better that my baby._

Yeah, you sure taught him a lesson, all right.

Sam thought about that night, the wreck wasn't too far from here. The scene played over and over in his head like a scratched record. The Mustang cutting them off, the Impala spinning out of control. Dean was a good driver, but no one could have recovered from that spin.

_I could have. The pavement was wet._

But you didn't. And that tree was in the wrong place.

_No, that _kid_ was in the wrong place. I could have correced but I would have killed him._

So you died instead.

Sam flopped back over on his other side trying to quash the conversation in his head that was tearing him apart. As he landed, a jolt of pain ran through his entire body. His own stupid mistake had been not wearing his seatbelt. He'd had a very intimate introduction to the dashboard, the hard way.

_And I'd just got her all put back together, too..._ the voice in his head lamented.

Sam sat up, breathing heavy in attempt to stave off yet another bout of tears. He reached for the pill bottle sitting on the bedside table marked 'oxycodone' and threw two of the horse-size pills into his mouth, chasing them down with a swig from a half-empty bottle of Jim Beam.

_Why does it always rain here?_

That damn voice in his head was back. Sam wondered silently if dillusions were a side effect of the pain killers, or just a bonus for someone who had recently lost a loved one.

Lost. He huffed grimmly to himself. What a silly way to say it. I didn't misplace Dean. Dean was dead. His ashes are in a little cardboard box marked 'Temporary Container' under the name John Bonham sitting on the nightstand.

He looked at the clock. 2:19 PM, it glared back in menacing red digits. Out the dirty window he could see the rain still falling as if it never had an end, the sky the bleakest of grays.

Hell, screw it, he thought, and chugged the rest of the bottle.

_Hey, remember that girl from the bar in New York?_

Sam would scream, or tell the voice to go away, but he was scared to let go of the one last part of Dean he had, though he knew it was verging on lunacy.

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**Author's Note: Okay, so maybe I'm just babbling.**

**Like the title? I thought it was especially clever, myself.**

**For the record, I own a Mustang, but I know how that ol' Chevy v. Ford rivalry goes.**

**Will work for reviews :-)**

**PLEASE REVIEW!!! THANK YOU!!!**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.**

--

_It's Bobby,_ the voice in his head said.

Sam turned his head slightly on the pillow. He heard the familiar rumble of Bobby's old blue tow truck.

Crap. Sam sighed. He didn't want any company. He didn't plan on moving on with his life, so he didn't really see the point.

There was a pounding at the door that was followed by a pounding in Sam's head. "Sam!?" came the call in Bobby's husky voice.

Sam didn't move from the bed, and he didn't call out. Again Bobby pounded on the door.

"Sam! I know you're in there. I've been tracking you for two weeks. Open the door!"

Damn. Sam knew Dean and Bobby had a safety system worked out, something along the lines of a phone call every couple days, just in case something happened to one or the other. Dean's cell was trashed in the crash, and Sam had not turned on his cell phone since the accident. Apparently, Bobby had come looking.

"Sam! Open the God-damn door!!" But he didn't. He rolled over and closed his eyes.

_You know that isn't going to stop him. Man, this is Bobby we're talkin' about._

Maybe he'll get the hint.

_You can't live like this, Sammy._

I don't intend to.

Sam heard Bobby jiggle the handle of the door to see if it was unlocked.

"GO AWAY!" he shouted as loud as he could without re-injuring himself. A broken rib had perforated a lung in the crash, so his shout was more like a loud whisper.

Bobby didn't say anything else, but Sam could hear the tell-tale rattle of a lockpick set working in the keyhole. He sneered. Lying on his stomach with his face already burried in a old feather pillow, Sam decided he didn't have the energy or desire to greet the unwelcome guest.

Slowly the door opened, creaking loudly as it swung.

A footstep. Another.

Whack! The screen door slammed shut behind the intruder.

_Now what, Genius?_

"Sam?" Bobby's footsteps came faster. "Oh, my God, Sam..."

He laid a concerned hand lightly on Sam's shoulder, and Sam drew in a quick, shaky breath from the pain. He refused to look. "Leave me be, Bobby," he commanded in a pathetic whisper.

--

**Author's Note: Might have been better as a one shot. You tell me.**

**Will work for reviews :-)**

**PLEASE REVIEW!! THANK YOU!!**


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